The Meatballs franchise is pretty much the most worthless franchise in history. Of the four films that exist, only the first is remotely good, and only the second sequel has any connection to it (if you count changing the name of one character in an unrelated script a worthy connection). No single movie studio even saw more than one Meatballs into being, as the title rights kept getting passed around like a lit bomb in a cartoon.
And now we come to the bottom of the barrel, the stalest Meatball of all, Meatballs 4, a movie that once held a place of honor in the IMDb Bottom 100 before Uwe Boll and the general state of cinema managed to make several films even crappier. Unsurprisingly, Meatballs 4 was not conceived or filmed as a Meatballs sequel. It was known as Happy Campers (wow, what a boring title!) all through production, until someone decided to capitalize on the Meatballs franchise “popularity” and stitch on the new title. And because of that one off-the-cuff decision, I had to watch the whole franchise 18 years later.
(The unofficial subtitle, To the Rescue, is as uninspired, useless and unrevealing as most sequel subtitles. They might as well have called it In the Mix or I Have Worms. There’s no more “rescue” here than in any other movie featuring conflict – that’s pretty much all of them, by the way, barring avant garde Euro art flicks.)
So Meatballs 4 is really just a late entry in the unlamented summer camp comedy subgenre, following all the formula rules the original Meatballs set in stone over a decade prior. That includes the camp rivalry competition involving a ragtag group of eccentric nonentities. Only now the subgenre has evolved, if Darwin will permit that loose usage, to make them nonentities with titties. Yes, sex comedies were certainly emphasizing the “sex” half of that equation, pretty much forgetting the “comedy” altogether. Meaning at least you get a healthy serving of naked nipples in your awful, awful movie, though you could really just do a Google Image Search for “breasts” and get pretty much the same thing. And this is all softcore, with plenty of T&A, but no T&A&V, ‘cause we gotta avoid the X.
The movie opens on quiet, serene footage of Lakeside Waterski (sic) Camp. This is the best part of the movie, since we haven’t met any characters yet. And at least writer/director Bob Logan (of pretty much nothing else except the tardy, retarded Exorcist parody Repossessed) had the sense to film this somewhere other than Southern California, unlike Meatballs Part II. (Pointless note: They’ve switched from Roman numerals to Arabic in the sequel numbering, for all the difference it makes.)
The peace is interrupted most rudely by the sort of bland, bubblegum early 90s rock most people wouldn’t accept as a ringtone. This whole movie reeks of the early 90s, with a strong vestigial 80s component, not a good thing. A school bus recklessly approaches camp (the subgenre demands this), to greet camp owner Neil Peterson and his five counselors. Neil is played by Jack Nance, former David Lynch regular, and his presence here is really far more tragic than that mere career decline indicates. His wife committed suicide during filming, in circumstances that seem to be the movie’s fault; under the Meatballs 4 curse, Nance died under mysterious circumstances four years later after eating at a Winchell’s Donuts. There’s nothing like the air of tragedy to brighten up your cheapo T&A skin flick, eh?
The bus disgorges the camp’s scant twenty-four campers, who I swear are the exact same age as the counselors. They’re all well into their twenties, and I swear I’ll stop mentioning the age of “teenagers” in movies, except in instances where it’s particularly abrasive. These adult actors all behave as if their characters are actually supposed to be aged in the single digits (cue dialogue like “It’s my first time away from home,” and “Oh boy oh boy oh boy!”), but still exhibiting all the randiness the genre requires. Now, there’s a reason for the actresses advanced ages. They’re all old enough to be Playboy castoffs, because that’s exactly what they are. You need great masses of mammaries in your movie, that’s how you get ‘em. And in keeping with the cast, the whole film is shot with the low video sheen of a “Skinemax” epic, with flat lighting but no obvious amateurism.
The movie peaks early, with a cheesecake display of every naked gland available, as the girls all go shower together. I see implant scars! Justifying this pornographicness ever so slightly, token camp lard ass Victor Thigpen (Brad Grunberg, as “Johnny Cocktail” – What?) peeps through the window, slobbering himself. Victor is the only male camper (or counselor) that I can positively tell apart from the rest, a result of his aforementioned obesity. Every single other male actor (with the obvious exception of Nance) looks like an underpant model (they probably were), with that exact same early 90s crisped bang haircut. Amongst this indistinguishable mass are Victor’s self-appointed douchebag tormenters, Wes and Howie (Bojesse Christopher and J. Trevor Edmond). Wes’s distinct “personality trait” is that he has sideburns, which isn’t a style statement in his case, but rather a way to hide a disfiguring (shaving?) scar.
Speaking of hideous, disfiguring scars, who wants extended close-ups of Jack Nance? Not I, but I get ‘em anyway. See, Lakeside Waterski Camp (I hate typing that) is in financial trouble, and might close, but the subgenre alone told you that. Director Logan somehow thinks close-ups are all it takes to hit “heartfelt,” so he has Neil confess his worries to his granddaughter Kelly (Deborah Tucker, professional figure skater) – notable amongst the female cast because she’s flat-chested, keeps her clothes on, and is a redhead. She is also the eventual love interest, and – Oh God! Jack Nance’s cavernous facial pores shouldn’t loom so large on an HDTV! Arghh!
Where was I? The camp’s troubles. Neil makes a grand announcement to his counselors, that they have a new rec director, stolen from competing camp Twin Oaks, one Ricky Wade, water ski extraordinaire. Ricky makes his entrance by, um, parachute-surfing to the lake from a biplane with a gigantic boom box, instantly earning the whole camp’s unending love. As you could see by that horrifying movie poster at the start, Ricky is our star of the show, played by Corey Feldman. Oh Corey! Once a promising child actor (they all once were), star of The Goonies, The Lost Boys, Stand By Me and – er – Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter, by 1992 Feldman was steadily on his way to becoming a VH1 reality “star” and walking Internet punch line. Meatballs 4 marks his pathetic attempt to jumpstart his career following a public battle with heroin. Like Nance, there’s nothing like the weight of prominent tragedy to highlight your zany titstravaganza. Here, let me sum up the car wreck of Feldman’s life with a single image:
Feldman’s oddball manners here reflect his substance abuse issues – it’s really quite sad. And since we’re being asked to consider Meatballs 4 in relation to Meatballs, we find just how poorly Feldman stands up against the great Bill Murray. Feldman isn’t so much a comedy star as he is a raving egomaniac wildly acting up for attention or drug money. (Apparently, his tooth falls out on screen at some part, though I couldn’t find it.)
Ricky teaches the campers the spiritual ways of waterskiing through the art form of the montage. Here another of the film’s countless elevator-quality rock songs comes into play, in a sad, aborted bid to inject some energy into the proceedings. I hope you like water ski montages, because they comprise roughly 40% of this movie. To mark this scene, I guess I’ll relate some of the exposition they’ve already dumped about Ricky’s character. Erm, he once worked for Lakeside, dated Kelly, went over to Twin Oaks, is now back at Lakeside, and Kelly has moved on to one of the generic Speedo models in the cast, one Kyle (Bently Mitchum). Feldman – er, Ricky – and Kyle have regular arguments at regular intervals, comprising the film’s major “dramatic” through line. And wouldn’t you know it, Ricky is training the campers for the big upcoming water ski tournament against Twin Oaks, because these movies always resolve themselves around a sporting competition.
Let’s meet the competition – owner of the allegedly evil Twin Oaks, Monica Shavetts (Sarah Douglas, Zod’s henchwoman from Superman II). We know she’s eee-vil due to her British accent. [Shiver.] She offers to buy Lakeside in order to create the Mountainview Golfing Community. We’re supposed to dread this forest development, but I have a hard time seeing how two competing water ski camps are that much better. Either one sucks for the forest. Neil turns down Shavetts’ $500,000 offer due to something called “principles,” but really, half a million dollars, guy! That could buy even more former Playmates, the seemingly innocent function Lakeside serves now.
The next scene is the big camp dance, the bad disco of one era now replaced with the bad hair rock of another era. Interchangeable characters dance about in their primped early ninetiesness. Ricky performs an awkward dance for their adulation, which really comes across as one of Feldman’s depressing withdrawal symptoms. Then he speechifies.
We take a break from admiring this tragic-comic actor breakdown for a “dramatic” scene between big-breasted girl Jennifer and, uh, one of the guys…I think it’s Kyle – No wait, it’s Wes. Whatever, these characters are about to go have sex.
Camp fatso Victor, meanwhile, has the eyes for the film’s premier Playmate, Hillary (Miss September Cristy Thom, surely up for Zoolander’s Slashie Award – her only other credit is as “Girl in Restaurant”). Victor attempts to talk to her, but one of the boys (I think it’s Kyle) trips him. Meanwhile, Kelly has a romantic scene with one of the other boys (I think it’s also Kyle). If this write up seems disjointed and directionless, well, that’s just a feature of the movie.
Scenes follow with little deviation from what we’ve seen. Sadly, they mainly feature Ricky, so we are forced to endure Corey Feldman’s concept of comic mugging. This mostly involves him identifying the ostensibly funniest lines, then just saying them loudly. He appears in a scene where he’s supposed to act the mentor to poor, friendless Victor, but instead Ricky just dry humps him and zaps him with a tazer that looks like a cigarette box (?). Also, the movie takes great pains to explain how Victor likes to paint rocks, a little detail that serves absolutely no purpose later on.
The next morning is the one and only concession to the camp pranks that were the first Meatballs’ bread and butter. Neil and Ricky, that duo of great human loss, stage an air raid siren, convincing all the campers to race from their cabins in partial underwear (whatever the actresses’ contracts stipulated as their maximum nudity). This forced public nakedness is all just cheeky fun, though, and nothing worthy of countless sexual harassment lawsuits.
Things are grinding along pretty pointlessly, so let’s just have another water ski montage, why don’t we? Characters jet ski and water ski, while other characters call out their names to let us know just whose stunt double we’re currently looking at. The guy subbing for Feldman is notably not Feldman – he’s not prematurely withered from suffering, for one thing.
And…the…montage…goes…on…and…on…and…on…
That night the campers play charades around a campfire – strip charades – serving this film’s true purpose – Look, tits! Through inexplicable comic buffoonery, Victor spills water on the Playmate’s shirt (checking my notes, her name is “Hillary”). She goes to the bathroom to “clean her shirt,” allowing us and Victor a chance for lengthy boob exposure, as water slowly dribbles over her nipples. Look, I’m just writing what’s up there on screen! The audience sated, the Playmate puts her shirt back on.
Back at the campfire, and ostensibly the plot, Ricky has an argument with…I think it’s Kyle. Um, the one dating Ricky’s ex-girlfriend. He challenges Ricky to a game of Chicken, a challenge no movie teenager can ever turn down. This somehow inspires Ricky to make an awful reference to Treasure of the Sierra Madre. Then they go out to the lake to recreate Rebel Without a Cause on jet skis – I realize I bring up this movie a lot, and it’s the fault of the movies I watch. They speed at each other, and Kyle tumbles into the water – it’s verified, this one’s name is Kyle.
Daytime comes, and with it the chance for another waterskiing montage. Ricky’s stuntman attempts a ramp jump, turning 2 ½ times and crashing into the lake. This provokes Ricky to quip another quip far beyond Feldman’s capability of adequately performing – this really is a wildly overeager, directionless performance. We learn Ricky’s lifelong dream is to complete the legendary “triple hinge.” Hmm, I think he’ll be doing just that at the climax.
Now it’s time for the big waterskiing competition. Already? We’re only, like, halfway through the movie. (I know it’s taking a while. There’s just so much oddness to comment upon.) And how is this competition depicted? Through another waterskiing montage! Minutes after the last one! The second unit surely earned their bread. Again the montage goes on for far too long, and we never once even see any campers from the villainous Twin Oaks – This is a totally abstract threat they apparently pose. Victor performs on the Jet Ski, attempts a ramp jump, and fails utterly, as is his obese wont (Kyle disapproves).
In the end it all comes down to the men’s water ski ramp jump match, with Twin Oaks fielding their champion Michael Phelps – Wait, what?! It must be a coincidence. Whatever, here comes our man Ricky, his lead boat driven by one of the Kyles. This particular Kyle is the one who hates Ricky, so he tries to forfeit the match. Ricky still wins, ever so slightly – Lakeside wins the competition! So that means they’re, like, safe from Shavetts’ construction crews, right? That’s how this genre works, right? Well, not quite, there’s plenty of movie left and there was never anything actually riding on this match. Okay, movie, where are you going?
Shavetts serves the plot’s need. She tells her two cartoonish thug bodyguards to “expediate (sic) Mr. Peterson’s financial woes.”
The outcome of Shavitts’ infinitely evil plan is conveyed to us the only way they know how – through montage! I ought to make that a macro. First up the camp cook checks his pans to find…something evil. (We don’t see it; I think it’s poo.) Therefore two campers leave on the bus.
Later on, four campers ride on their ATVs when the bodyguards steal their clothing from them at gunpoint – this is my favorite excuse for nudity! Apparently this forced public nakedness crosses the line, when Neil’s similar act didn’t. Therefore the four campers leave on the bus.
Cue another cheesecake shower scene – blue paint bursts through the shower heads, creating three naked Na’vis. Therefore these three campers leave on the bus.
A shot of the sunset indicates the montage is over. Kelly sits on the dock with Ricky, lamenting the desertion of Kyle the Greater (he’s moved over to Twin Oaks). This is another tiresome attempt at instilling “drama,” with Ricky’s heartfelt blah blah blah about forgiveness or whatever. Seemingly Kelly can hear the soundtrack, which distracts her from Feldman’s performance. They kiss. I vomit in my mouth.
Then they meet with Neil, who announces the camp shall close in one day, due to mortgages and refunds and whatnot. (Refunds? Ah, like paying theater goers also demanded!) Ricky proposes a solution, one which requires “big cojones.”
Neil dutifully reports to Shavetts’ mansion, enormous cojones in tow. He meets with Shavetts – you know, Sarah Douglas isn’t unattractive, but the “milf” concept was still in its infancy in the early 90s, so nothing comes of it. Whatever, Neil proposes that they have a rematch waterskiing competition (ah!), and whoever wins basically gains control of Lakeside. Of course Shavetts will gain control of Lakeside if she does nothing, while she has everything to lose by entering this competition – so of course she enters the competition. Bra-vo. Also, Kyle the Greater acts as her cabana boy/lapdog throughout this scene. It isn’t funny.
Waterskiing montage! Whoo! That’s, like, the fifth one! This shows just how little content this movie has. Victor trains on the jet skis, his Playmate whore calling from shore (hand cupped obviously over her mouth to allow for dubbing). Victor triumphs at the ramp jump, to the dismay of various lesser Kyles.
That night Ricky leads his team in a spectacularly uniconic battle speech, while Shavetts’ hired goons sabotage their equipment outside. The group disbands, and Jennifer’s turns to her particular Kyle (the Wes-Kyle) to ask him to do…something. Then the Wes-Kyle and Howie-Kyle perform an elaborate cruel prank on fat, fat Victor. Victor tumbles, injuring his pride (and his, uh, body part). Everyone lugs the fatso to the hospital, and Jennifer confronts the two lesser Kyles about their collective douchebaggery. Well, that was pointless.
But enough screen time has passed. Time for a replay of the waterskiing competition – Montage! Shavetts’ two bodyguard goons (and a third unidentified guy) sit out on the lake with remote controlled what-have-you technology, causing Lakeside’s Jet Skis and boats to crap out and lose them competition points. This goes on for as long as montage can humanly allow, until Victor (watching from shore with his Peeping Tom binoculars) spies the canoe goons. So this is the big fatty-makes-good arc you knew was coming – he sees bad guys. Well done, lard lad! Thus Lakeside speeds their boat towards the canoe, dragging the elderly Neil behind on water skis with absolutely no justification. Apparently it’s Neil’s waterskiing skills that somehow allow the boat ahead of him to smash the canoe. Yeah, why not?
So it’s down to the final men’s ski jump…again. Twin Oaks earns good scores. The ghostly, disembodied voice on the P.A. announces how unlikely it is for Ricky to beat this, which prompts Ricky into his big dramatic moment. Again director Logan confuses close-ups for emotion, and pushes in way too close to Corey Feldman’s zit-riddled beard stubble. Sometimes I really hate having a nice television!
Feldman’s stunt double skis towards the ramp in some of the slowest slow motion technically possible. It’s so slow, in fact, that there’s time for reaction shots from the entire cast before Ricky launches. Now, is there any creative way of saying this is where Ricky performs his astounding “triple hinge?” No there’s not. So Lakeside wins. And the villainous Shavetts gets her just deserts as her bodyguards dump water on her – because in lowbrow comedies like this, getting wet is the only comeuppance the villain ever needs. I never understood this one.
The Lakeside campers exchange standard farewells before the school buses, indicating the movie is nearly over. It can’t come soon enough. End now! Neil’s final lines issue a dire threat of a non-existent sequel: “I have a feeling next summer’s going to be even better.”
Ricky has a carefully posed final kiss with Kelly, surely a cue for the movie to fade out. But it doesn’t. Instead Feldman turns to the camera and rudely tells us to go home – this movie is in no position to end by directly insulting its audience. Feldman then makes an outdated joke about VHS, and proceeds to actively lament the fact that “I was in Goonies.” Actually, I don’t think this was scripted; I think this was just some of Feldman’s self-pity caught on camera. Happy memories, everyone.
I have nothing more to say about Meatballs 4. This awful thing put a decisive end to the Meatballs franchise, something which was never really alive anyway, except as a last-resort title switch for desperate, dignity-free producers. The only reason the Meatballs title got slapped onto unrelated sequels was to cash in on its perceived popularity. Whatever truth there was to this nebulous notion, there couldn’t possibly be any name value to this stuff after Meatballs 4. At this stage there’s always the off chance for a remake – Meatballs is sadly of the proper age for this “honor,” and the IMDb mistakenly thinks there’ll be one this year – but I genuinely feel that audiences are starting to turn on remakes, and thus we may finally be seeing an end to this trend. Therefore I pronounce this franchise dead!
And besides, it just doesn’t matter.
Decidedly not its IMDb scores.
Related posts:
• No. 1 Meatballs (1979)
• No. 2 Meatballs 2 (1984)
• No. 3 Meatballs III (1986)
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